


None So Devotional

by EmeraldHeiress



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Breastfeeding, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Male Lactation, Minor Character Death, Omega Bruce Wayne, Omega Jason Todd, Omega Jason Todd Week 2020, POV Bruce Wayne, Protective Bruce Wayne, under the red hood AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:42:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23508577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldHeiress/pseuds/EmeraldHeiress
Summary: Bruce didn’t need the blood on the blade — the tissue — to tell him that it was his pup under that helmet. He could smell him. The scent of tea on the wind, crisp mint and honey. Barely dampened by the rain. It was older. Mature. Omega.Underneath, though, a new darker note. Something… twisted.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 57
Kudos: 794
Collections: omega Jason Todd week 2020





	None So Devotional

Bruce didn’t need the blood on the blade — the tissue — to tell him that it was his pup under that helmet. He could smell him. The scent of tea on the wind, crisp mint and honey. Barely dampened by the rain. It was older. Mature. _Omega_. 

His son had grown up. 

Grown up without him. _Presented_ without him. Had he been afraid? Who had he gone to during his first heat? Who had answered his questions? Newly presented omegas were so _vulnerable_ ; it nawed at Bruce to think that his son hadn’t been safe in the nest, safe with his pack, when he’d gone through his presentation. Turned his stomach to think of everything that could have happened to him.

Underneath his still achingly familiar scent, though, a new darker note. Something… twisted. 

It brought to mind the acid green of the Lazarus Pits. Memory was a funny thing. He had only been in the caves under the League of Shadows compound once but he could still smell the sharp tang of ozone and something _other_. 

Bruce could barely keep up. Barely believe it, listening as the words flowed from his pup’s lips. Words of acid. Words of anger. Words of hate. His feet were frozen, his own mouth moving in a rote pattern as his mind spun. He couldn’t stop his own tongue from replying. Saying things he didn’t want to say. Things he didn’t mean.

When Jason triggered the explosion it was almost a relief. He could move again. But his son was gone. Vanished. Just like he’d been taught. _Better_ than he’d been taught. By Bruce at least.

He cursed himself silently, uselessly, as Jason continued to slip through his fingers. Along with the answers he sought. He rubbed at his aching chest. Hormones stirring — triggered by the events — instincts screaming for his son as he searched.

The empty grave.

The undisturbed casket.

The case.

When Alfred asked, Bruce had him leave the suit where it stood. 

It didn’t change anything. 

It didn’t change anything because no matter what, he was bringing his pup home. And together — _together_ — they could take it down. 

Display it somewhere else, maybe. A monument to days past. Put it away. _Burn it_. It didn’t matter. Whatever Jason wanted to do with it. What mattered… what mattered was bringing Jason home. What mattered was his pup safe. In the den — in the _nest_ — where he belonged with the rest of the pack. 

Bruce swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat as he watched the images on the screen of the Batcomputer. The aftermath of Jason’s latest strike at Black Mask and the Gotham underworld. 

_Deathstroke_.

Lips pressed thin, Bruce listened through the audio feed as Deathstroke and Black Mask joined forces to kill his son. His heart constricted in his chest as he worked to track their movements from the alley. He wouldn’t — _couldn’t_ — lose Jason again. Not when he’d just found him. Not ever.

It was three days before they made their move. Three days of near-misses trying to track down his errant pup. Three days of failed attempts. 

He almost called Dick back to the den. His alpha son would be a great help in tracking down their wayward member. But something stopped him. Intuition, perhaps, that Jason wouldn’t take well to being hunted by an alpha. _No omega would._

Bruce’s instincts _screamed_ with the need to be out of the cave and doing something. Anything. Restless and short-tempered, he paced the cave as he waited for the information to run. Waited for word to come. He was itching to drag his pup home, by the scruff if necessary. ~~Where had Jason learned to conceal his movements so well?~~

When the notification came through of Wilson’s death squad and the trap in Crime Alley, the only thing Bruce needed to think about was the quickest way to get there. He was ashamed to admit that he was not as familiar with the area as he should be. Grief — in all its many forms — kept him from the Alley. 

First, his parents. Then, Jason. Too much blood — too many memories were held on Park Row. Soaked into the very asphalt and grime. 

His stomach felt like lead as he leapt out of the batmobile. The sight of Jason on his back with that monster snapping at his throat would join the highlight reel of his nightmares. Before he’d even realized, he’d tranqed the thing. Four perfectly placed darts up its spine. 

“Couldn’t decide if you wanted to let me live?” Jason taunted.

_Never_. 

That was never an option. Would never _be_ an option.

That his pup would ever even think —

“Shut up and fight.” Bruce growled back, his tongue tripping over the words as they made their way out. Knowing it was the wrong thing to say, but not being able to stop them.

It caught his breath how easily they fell together. They moved like they always had — like they’d trained to. Flowing around each other and compensating for their weaknesses. Without a thought, he trusted his pup. Despite everything that stood between them. 

It served him well. Served them both well as they took out the assassins. It was only when the third entered the battlefield that they stumbled. 

And yet...

The denial ripped itself from his throat as he watched his son casually take the life of another person and end the battle. It didn’t matter that it was a villain — a killer in his own right.

“Did you actually think this would go any other way?!” Jason called, hanging off the fire escape. “Just be happy I only killed the Nazi!”

With a growl, Batman followed, scaling the building easily. The world was better off with one less Nazi in it, but Jason… was Jason better off for having been the one to do it?

Bruce wasn’t letting his pup slip away again. It wasn’t safe. Deathstroke and Sionis were still out for his head. He wouldn't — couldn’t — let anything happen to his pup again. 

The helmet turned to look at him as he crested the building.

“Really, old man?”

“Jason.” _Please_.

A scoff. 

“Come and get me then!” A leap and Jason sailed over the rooftops, just like he’d used to. 

Part of Bruce was awed watching; to see his son alive again to fly. The rest of him knew that if he didn’t catch up and end this now that Jason would still be in danger. More so, if Wilson took the failure of the attack personally. Bruce didn’t know — didn’t care — what kind of training he’d had since he’d come back, he was not leaving Jason to the mercy of Deathstroke. He sprang after. 

As Bruce chased his pup across Gotham’s skyline, he couldn’t help but remember. The last time he had rushed towards Jason, worry for his safety and fear in his heart, he hadn't made it in time. He had been too late. Even then, though, _only just._ Minutes. If he’d been there bare minutes earlier, he could have saved him. ~~Could have died with him instead of living without him.~~

Memories flashed through his mind. The race to the warehouse in Ethiopia. Arriving just in time to feel the heat from the blast as it went up in flames. Calling for Jason over and over as he picked through the rubble. He could still taste the smoke and ash on his tongue. 

His chest ached and his throat constricted, heavy with everything he was holding back. Everything he felt. 

Boots landed hard on another rooftop, the abandoned bank on Park Row. Bruce’s heart nearly froze in his chest as brick gave under his son’s feet. Jason recovered, but the scare was enough to break Bruce’s careful control. The _call_ that had been building, trapped in this throat, forced its way past his lips. It rang in the air, demanding attention. 

His pup froze.

“ _Don’t you dare_.” A tremble, mostly scrubbed by the filter but still audible, threaded through Jason’s voice. “Don’t you do this to me.”

Bruce hadn't meant to. Hadn’t wanted to ~~hadn’t realized he could~~ bring Jason home like that, but it was too late now... and he wasn’t above using any tool he could. Bruce called again, low and keening. 

Calling his pup to him. 

A whine — a mix of anguish, frustration, and _longing_ — tore itself from Jason’s throat, barely muffled by the helmet. Slowly, he began to move, feet almost dragging on the metal of roof as he found himself unable to ignore the summons. Hope bloomed. Bruce met him halfway, reaching out and pulling his boy to him.

“ _Why?_ ” A crackle of static. “I had _plans_. You don’t — _I’m not your son!_ ”

“How dare you.” Bruce scolded, voice thick. “You’ll _always_ be my pup.”

His fingers worked to find the clasps on the helmet. He needed to see his pup’s face. Needed to breathe in his scent. See he was safe. _Alive_.

“ _How can you say that?!_ ” Jason growled, hands fisting in Bruce’s cape like they used to do when he was small. When he needed comfort. “How can you tell me that when _He’s_ still walking around!”

Understanding slammed into Bruce as he lifted the helmet and caught the expression on Jason’s face. 

_Him_. 

Joker.

“Oh, Jay…”

Red fiberglass bounced on the rooftop next to them as Bruce cradled his son’s head in his hands. Looked into white lenses where blue eyes should have been. His dramatic theater nerd.

“I tried three times.” Bruce’s voice was harsh to his own ears and muffled as he buried his nose in Jason’s hair and _breathed_. The pressure in his chest increased. It _hurt_. “I tried three times to kill him, Jay. The first time, Clark stopped me.”

The growl was low — almost too soft to hear — but the words were filled with agony. “You did?”

“Someone stopped me every time. _Every. Time_.” He rubbed his cheek over the crown of his pup’s head and huffed, annoyed, when the suit blocked him from scenting his pup. That could be fixed, though. He ripped off the cowl and tossed it aside to join Jason’s helmet.

“What are you doing?”

Bruce tugged his boy closer and covered him in his scent. Marking him. Pack. Son. Pup. 

“ _Bruce_.” The word sounded like it was dragged out of his throat; hoarse and full of pain. Gods, what had his boy been through to make him hurt so much? Wasn’t his death enough?

“Jaylad, come home. We can sort it all out together.” His own voice was thick in his throat. Words clumsy on his tongue. The fingers in his cape tightened and he could feel Jason’s body shake. Smell the confusion and distress in the scent around him as the boy buried his face in Bruce’s neck.

“B?” 

A whine, soft and almost lost in the noise of the street below. 

“I got you, Jay.” He always would. “I’m taking you home.” The dip, barely there, of a nod against his neck. It was all the permission he needed. 

The following half hour was a blur. If anyone had asked him later how he got to the Cave, Bruce wouldn’t have been able to tell them. The next thing he was truly aware of was tucking Jason into his nest. 

After the adrenaline had worn off, his pup had started to crash. _Hard_. Jason was barely keeping his eyes open. The familiar scents and comfort of the manor probably soothing his instincts, whether he wanted them to or not.

Peeling the mask off Jason’s face, Bruce got a good look at the dark circles and pale skin under the helmet. He wondered how long it had been since his son had had a good night’s sleep. How long it had been since he had any semblance of a decent meal. Since he had felt safe.

Bruce tucked the material of the nest in around them both. Soft shirts, blankets, and scarves. Surrounding them in the scents of the family. Alfred and Dick’s would be familiar to Jason; the most comforting. He made sure they were closest to his pup. The mingled materials saturated in the scents of his other children were pulled over to him.

Fingers carded through dark curls.

“Bruce?” Already more than half-asleep. 

“Go to sleep, Jay. I’m here. We’ll talk in the morning.” 

Curled around his lost son, breathing in his scent for the first time in five years, Bruce drifted.

________________________________________

Moonlight spilled through the cracks in the curtains, but that wasn’t what woke him. A soft whine, a face against him and the warmth of Jason’s body. A nose nuzzled his chest. Bruce’s lips curled in a gentle smile. Instinct was a powerful thing. Even asleep, pups would seek the comfort of their mothers. The pack bond that nursing created.

He bent to press a kiss to Jason’s head and opened his shirt, allowing his son the access he sought. A purr rumbled to life in his throat as his pup latched on and began to drink. The pressure that had been building in his breasts for days began to ease. 

Bruce stroked Jason’s hair as he nursed. The scent of milk and omega and pack was heavy in the air. The thread of their long-frayed bond slowly began to heal. It was a heady feeling and one Bruce wasn’t going to take for granted. He’d never thought he’d have this again.

“ _Mom_?” 

Even with Jason’s voice muzzy with sleepy confusion and half milk-drunk, it still made Bruce’s breath catch in his throat. He never thought he’d hear that again. Not from Jay. 

“Yeah, Jaylad.” He swallowed, “I’m here.”

Bruce inhaled the scent of his pup and flashed back to countless other times Jason had called him “Mom.” It had been a minor miracle when it happened the first time. Trauma and trust issues so deeply ingrained he might as well have been born with them. ~~He can’t believe he ever got _used_ to hearing it.~~

To hear it now… after everything… might as well be divine intervention. This time, he wasn't going to do or say anything that might drive Jason to seek another one. He’d made more than enough mistakes with his children, but none so monumental as with this precious pup. 

He would be better. 

_He had to be._

“I’m here.”

Bruce nudged Jason to the other side as one breast drained. Drowsily compliant, he went. In the morning… in the morning Bruce would call Dick and Tim and Cass. Bring the pack home. Together they could tackle whatever Jason needed to integrate back into the pack.

Together.

The way it should be.

~~Until then, Jason wasn’t leaving this nest.~~

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](https://primeemeraldheiress.tumblr.com/)  
> Thank you to the lovely [Ellegrine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellegrine/pseuds/Ellegrine) [(aka Ellory)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellory/pseuds/Ellory/works) for betaing!


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